


Demon

by Colette_Capricious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Faeries Made Them Do It, First Time, M/M, but not really, slight dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colette_Capricious/pseuds/Colette_Capricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets roofied by fairies and Dean is really really pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon

_God, Dean is pretty. Like, really pretty. Those big green eyes with the long, dark lashes. The way they brush against his fingertip_.

Something tries to move his hand away from where it is needs to be to feel the butterfly kisses of Dean’s eyelashes. _How rude._

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy. My eyes are a lot prettier when you’re not sticking you finger in them.”

 _Dean! It’s Dean! Sam is so happy. Dean is so pretty._

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, Loopy. Up and at ‘em. Those fairies got you good.” 

Oh, Dean is touching him, pulling his arm over Dean’s strong shoulders. _So strong. The way he drags Sam with him as he stands up, wow, that’s kinda hot. Dean’s strong for a little guy_.

“Oh, when you're sober again, I am so kicking your ass.”

Sam snickers. _Dean said ass. Mmmm, Dean’s hair smells good_.

“Yeah? it’s fairy guts. You like it?” 

All Sam can see is the shining strands of Dean’s hair. _So pretty, shiny_. He tries to lift up a hand to touch, to see if it feels as good as he thinks it should. Dean’s head lurches away from him and something is dragging him down the forest path. He whines, he wants Dean’s hair.

“You’re a freak.”

Sam looks down. _Hey, it’s Dean!_ “Dean!” He’s pretty sure he said that out loud.

“You’re saying everything out loud, idiot.” Dean’s grip around his back tightens as he keeps driving them forward through the dark woods. “No more drinking with fairies for you, okay?"

“Okay, Dean.” Whatever Dean says. It feels good. _Dean against him feels good. Strong and hard_. He stops trying to grab Dean’s hair and turns so he’s pressed against Dean, chest to chest. _Oh yeah, that feels good_. He drags his hands up and down between their bodies, feeling the hard muscles, feeling the nipples pebble under his palms. _No breasts though. Dean doesn’t have breasts_. “It’s okay if you don’t have breasts,” he tells Dean. _He doesn’t want Dean to feel bad. His Dean is too pretty to be sad_. 

His fingers drag around the waist of Dean’s jeans and he feels Dean’s breath hitch where they’re pushed together. He likes that, so he does it again, dragging his fingers a little slower this time, watching where they touch. _Oh, soft. Dean’s skin is so soft and warm_. He slides his palms up under Dean’s shirt. _Oh, yeah, that’s better_. It doesn’t even matter than Dean’s still walking, forcing Sam backwards with every step. 

Dean’s skin under his hands is warm, soft over hard, and his nipples tickle Sam's palms the same way Dean’s breath tickles his throat as it brushes across his neck and up by his ear. Dean’s breathing kind of hard now. Sam hopes he’s okay. He slides his hand up to Dean’s neck to tilt his head up so he can see him. Sam’s having a little trouble seeing right now. 

_Oof._ His ass slams into something hard, forcing the breath out of him, but Dean’s body pushes up against his and _fuck that feels good_. He groans at the same time Dean says, “Oh, thank fuck.” And Sam agrees. ”Yeah,” he says, grabbing Dean’s ass with both hands. 

“Oohh kay, Handsy McHanderson,” Dean says, trying to twist out of Sam’s grasp. “Let’s get in the car, okay?” 

Dean reaches around Sam, fumbling for something behind his back. His head is tilted down, not looking at Sam, and that’s not okay. _He wants to see Dean’s pretty eyes again_. Reluctantly, he moves one hand off Dean’s ass and grips Dean’s hair, pulling his head up so Sam can look in his eyes. 

Dean hisses and his eyes are darker than Sam usually sees them, the green a glittering rim around the dark pupils. _Demon_ , Sam thinks. _His Dean is a beautiful demon. He would go to hell if the demons looked like Dean_. 

Sam feels Dean shudder against him, a trembling from chest to thighs, and he really wants to feel that again. He leans forward, dragging his mouth across the constellation of freckles spanning Dean’s face from cheek to cheek. “Demon,” he whispers when he reaches Dean’s ear.

“Sam,” Dean croaks out in a cracked voice, miles away from his usual honey rasp. Sam feels Dean’s hands on his chest. _Yes_. But then Dean is pushing away, away from Sam. Rubbing his face with a shaking hand, tracing the path Sam’s mouth had taken. “Sam, you gotta get in the car. Okay?"

Sam pushes off the car, eyes locked on Dean’s mouth. _Dean’s lips are so pretty. So pink. And so far away_. They’re moving. Dean might be talking but Sam doesn’t care. He just lets the words flow through his ears, down the back of his throat, and rolls them around on his tongue. _Sweeter than the fairy wine and he bets Dean tastes even better_. 

Dean is dodging away from Sam, not letting Sam touch him, and that’s just not right. But Sam knows how to catch a cat. _Dean’s like a cat, all green eyes and grace_. 

“Dude, I’m not a cat.” Dean laughs, but his eyes are still dark, and Sam can see him watching, gaze locked on Sam’s pelvis, watching like they were taught, to see how Sam will move. Sam watches Dean’s mouth. He drags his fingers across his own lips, imaging how Dean’s would feel under his fingers, under his mouth. Leaning back against the cool metal, the edge of the roof digging in below his shoulder blades, he rubs one finger against his teeth, against the tip of his tongue, tasting sweat, gun metal, and the faintest hint of the unworldy wine. _Good_. Now Dean’s watching his mouth, coming one step closer. Sam sucks the finger into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he drags it out slowly, and Dean is two steps closer. _Here, kitty kitty_. 

Quick as a wink, and Sam winks just to see how fast that is, Sam reaches out, grabs Dean and spins them, pushing Dean against the door this time. _Good kitty_. 

_Dean is so pretty and he smells good_.

“I smell like guts, now get off me!” And Dean finally puts his hands on Sam. 

If Dean is trying to push him off, that’s not really the best way to do it. Sam shimmies against Dean, and Dean’s hands are hot against his skin, nails drawing lines down his chest. _That is a brilliant idea. Dean is smart and beautiful_. Sam tries it, just to see, digging his hands deep into Dean’s jeans, down around the curve of his ass - _ooh, commando Dean, naughty_ \- dragging slowly up his body, back up the curve, into the dip of his spine, up those amazing muscles he feels writhing under his hands, until he grips Dean’s shoulders from underneath his armpit. _God the sounds Dean can make._

He’s vaguely aware that his hips are pumping up against Dean’s, dragging their hard cocks against each other and _it feels so good_ , eye rollingly good, and _Dean is so hard and big and..._

“Jesus, Sam, just...shut up. Shut the fuck up already.” 

Dean’s mouth moves against Sam’s neck and reminds him of what he really wants. He pulls Dean’s head back and down and just drags his mouth up the column of Dean’s neck. Just slides across his jaw and cheeks, loving the feel of Dean’s stubble and the way it makes his lips feel tender and hot. He brushes his lips across Dean’s and the press of plush softness against his swollen lips is awesome. So he does it again, just gently shaking his head back and forth and dragging his mouth across Dean’s. His hands float back down, skimming the planes of Dean’s back, slipping gently back underneath his waistband. He flicks his tongue against Dean’s lips.

The curses and praise flow out of Dean, past Sam’s lips, into his mouth and curve slick around his teeth. Sam presses Dean harder against the car, bending him backwards into the curve of the metal and Dean’s mouth falls open. _Oh yes. Oh, this is good. So good._ He pushes into Dean’s mouth, sucks Dean’s tongue into his mouth, his hips thrusting slowly with the rhythm. 

Dean can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. They roam all over Sam, grabbing, scratching and holding on to whatever they can find. Sam pulls off Dean’s tongue with a slow drag and Dean’s bottom lip is between his teeth. Sam bites into, feels it yielding and sweet between his teeth. Dean growls and Sam feels it in his chest. He worries at that plushness, nipping and licking until he tastes blood against his tongue. _So sweet, so hot and full of life._ He can’t stop now, knees dipping, hips rolling hard, dragging his cock against Dean harder and harder. Dean tastes familiar and strange and wild. Heaven and Hell and Dean’s been to both.

A hand hard in his hair pulls him off, pulling his head back, and Dean is staring at him, gaze narrowed at Sam’s mouth and he can feel the blood on his mouth and on his teeth and Dean's chest rises at falls with each labored breath. He licks his lips, seeking the taste and Dean shakes him with the hand in his hair, stopping him. “No.”

Sam stops. Blood pounding in his temples, at the hollow of his throat and between his legs. He know his eyes must be open wide, can feel the strain of holding them open, but he can’t look away as Dean slowly leans forward, up off the car, and rises on his toes to lick the rest of the blood off Sam’s mouth. “Mine,” he says.

And _oh, Dean is so so pretty. And deadly. And spent forty years in hell. Oh, Dean._ The night wind is chilly against Sam’s neck. “Dean. Dean.” It’s all he can say 

Something’s broken loose in Dean now. Somehow, though Sam can’t remember anything beyond Dean’s black, black eyes boring into his - _demon_ \- both their shirts are off and they are pressed chest to chest, skin to skin. Dean grabs Sam’s shoulders, snakes his leg behind Sam’s knee and the sky whirls around until the ground reaches up to slam between his shoulders and Dean’s body falls down on top of him. He’s trapped in the cage of Dean’s arms and Dean’s eyes. 

Dean braces himself up on one elbow. Sam feels the trail Dean’s hand leaves as it curves around his cheek, drags over his jaw, and down his throat. He thinks he hears Dean say _if I only get to do this once, I want to do it right, Sam_ , but it doesn’t mean anything to him. Sam can feel his breath pushing out between his clenched teeth, can hear the thin, wavering whine that he doesn’t know how to stop. He can’t do anything but clutch at the grass and the dirt, riding the rolling, spinning earth, as Dean hand travels lower, pinching at his nipples. Sam’s back arches at that. More more more and he cries out as Dean’s mouth moves down his body, nipping and licking back and forth, right and left and Sam wishes more than anything that he could touch but if he lets go he’ll fall off. _I’ll fall off_. 

“I got you, Sammy,” Dean breaths into his navel.

Nothing has ever felt this good. Dean teeth at his hipbones, Dean’s hands tugging and pulling his jeans down. Even the cold dampness of the grass is good, a thousand points of sensation up and down his back and legs. The pants get hung up on his shoes and he kicks and flails. Dean rolls out of the way as one shoe flies off and Sam yanks his leg free.

“Something you want, Sammy?” The contrast between the night air across his overheated skin and Dean’s hot mouth is driving him crazy. Dean’s hand skims lightly up and down Sam’s cock and they both watch, mesmerized, as it jerks and jolts. Sam’s hips rock up into nothing. This Dean must have learned in hell, this slow torture. _Demon_ , Sam thinks, as Dean leans in and just barely touches his tongue to the wet tip. Sam can feels Dean’s hand trembling against his thigh. _Oh, my demon. I love you._. “Dean,” he tries to yell, but it comes out a breathless sigh. 

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” Dean says and Sam cries out as Dean’s hand tightens around him and strokes hard, up and down. Sam's breath is punched out of him. He yanks up handfuls of grass as he twists against the ground and sucks air back into his lungs.

And earth stops spinning, his mind clears and Sam knows three things. He’s naked. The grass is cold and prickly against his ass. And he’s about ten second away from coming with Dean’s hand on his dick.

He pushes himself up on his elbows to see his brother mesmerized by the slip of his hands over Sam's hard cock. “Dean!”

Dean’s hand stills instantly and he whips his head up to meet Sam’s gaze. _Fuck, but Dean is fucking gorgeous_. Lips red and swollen from their travels down Sam’s body. Eyes emerald green and frozen on Sam’s face. In those eyes Sam catalogs fear, shock, guilt, and lust, with guilt rapidly overtaking the lust. That just won’t do. “Not like this.” 

Dean’s eyes get wider and Sam feels his muscles tense and bunch for the leap he knows Dean is planing. Sam surges up and over, pinning Dean to the ground, hands tight around his biceps, knees spread over Dean’s thighs. “Like this.” And he slides down, groaning at the feel of the rough denim against his swollen cock. He holds Dean's head still with one hand when Dean tries to twist away, kissing and licking against Dean’s mouth. _Please, please, please_ , he thinks and he still must be saying things out loud because Dean opens up for him, his hands sliding across Sam’s back, pulling him tight against his chest.

They kiss, sharp and hard and urgent until the cuts on Dean’s lip open again and they taste blood. Sam groans and pulls off. He sits up, straddling Dean’s thighs. Dean can’t stop watching as Sam drags a finger across Dean’s lips then lifts it to his own mouth. They both moan as he licks the blood. He feels Dean pushing against his ass, hips rolling up. Dean’s hands land heavy on Sam’s hips, fingers crushing the skin as he pulls Sam harder into him. Sam can tell by the deep panting and the glazed look in his eyes that Dean is close. He rises up on his knees and Dean growls again at the loss of friction. This time Sam grins. “Demon.” 

“Sam,” Dean whispers.

Sam reaches down, unbuttons Dean’s jeans. He slides the zipper down slowly, remembering the feel of Dean’s skin on his hands, naked beneath the jeans.

“Yeah,” Dean breaths, lifting his hips for Sam. He kicks both shoes off and pushes his jeans completely off. 

“If I only get to do this once, I want to do it right,” Sam says, stretching himself to cover Dean from head to toe.

Dean grins. “Demon.”

“Demon.”

Then it’s all heat and hands and lips and tongues. Dean’s nails dig into Sam’s ass as he drags Sam up against him. The rub and catch of their skin almost painful. Sam latches on to the curve of Dean’s shoulder and pants into his skin, tonguing the salt taste. One arm braces him up, the other is curved around Dean’s cheek, thumb rubbing against his lips. Dean sucks it in and Sam bites down on his shoulder at the incredible wet heat wrapped around him.

“Fucker,” he breaths into Dean’s ear. He bites down on Dean’s earlobe. The space between them is getting more and more slick as they get closer and closer to orgasm. Sam pushes down against Dean’s tongue, pulling Dean’s mouth open. He moans at how easily Dean opens for him. “Jesus, Dean.” Dean turns those big green eyes at him, mouth still open under Sam’s touch. “So fucking gorgeous, you bastard.” Dean closes his mouth, sucks hard at Sam’s thumb and Sam’s dick jerks with how close he is to coming 

He yanks his hand away from Dean’s face, eyes fluttering shut at the wet popping sound and the sweet whine Dean makes. He lurches up, shifting their legs until he’s kneeling between Dean’s. Dean’s legs are clamped around Sam’s thighs, and their panting fills the air.

He licks his plam and grabs both of them together. It’s not easy, neither one of them is small. He starts driving hard against Dean. Now it’s Dean’s turn to clutch at the ground like he might fall off. “Did you think I didn’t see, Dean? Think I was immune to your fucking beautiful face? That I didn’t imagine your gorgeous, smart mouth wrapped around my cock?” Sam looses the rhythm then, remembering sweaty teenage jerk-off sessions in which Dean’s mouth had a starring role. “Oh, shit. Uh.” 

Dean is shaking his head back and forth even as his heels dig into the dirt for leverage as he rises to meet Sam’s every thrust. “I didn’t, Sammy. Oh, fuck, I didn’t - didn't think you did.” He wrenches his hand off the grass and grabs Sam’s hips and shoulders pulling him down against his chest. “I didn’t think so. But I wanted you to. I wanted you so bad.” 

Sam yanks his arm free from where it’s trapped between their bodies, and wraps one arm around Dean’s neck while he braces himself with the other. He kisses Dean hard, keeping their mouths sealed together as they push harder and faster against one another. Dean’s mouth is lax and open under his, and he can feel Dean’s thighs trembling where they’re clamped around him. Dean’s cock swells even more and he comes with a loud, drawn out moan. Sam drops his head to the crook of Dean’s shoulder and holds on as he feels Dean throbbing and shooting between them. Dean chants a litany of _god_ and _Sam_ and _fuck fuck fuck_ as Sam just drives into the mess of hot come between them and yells into the night as he comes white-out hard. 

Sounds return first. The thud of Dean’s heart under Sam’s ear, the croaking of the night frogs, and the whistling of the wind through the trees. Then the good feelings. Dean’s fingers combing through his hair, his mouth dropping soft kisses to the top of Sam's head. The post-orgasm lassitude humming in his arms and legs. The small sting of bites and scratches and hot places that he hopes will bruise. Eventually the not-so-good feelings start to register. It’s too cold to be lying naked on the ground, their skin is tacky and starting to stick together, and he may be a little hung over from an epic fairy drunk.

Dean’s hand tugs gently at his hair. “You back among the living?”

Sam turns his head into Dean, nuzzles at his chest, licks tentatively at the skin under his mouth, likes it and does it again. He hums his agreement, not quite up to words yet. Dean’s hand moves from his head to rub at his neck, slide up and down his back. _That feels really nice_. Dean laughs. 

“Did I say that out loud?” Sam asks without lifting his head. 

“Yeah, dude. Still feeling that fairy shit?” Dean’s voice is light, but his hand stills. The answer is important to him. However Sam answers is going to shape what comes next for them. Lucky for them, it’s an easy question.

With a small groan and a wrinkled nose at the feel of his skin peeling away from Dean, he rolls onto his side, arm across Dean’s chest, and props himself up on his elbow to makes sure Dean can see his face. “The only thing I’m feeling is like I want to get dressed, get back to the motel, and show you all the things I’ve thought about you over the years.” 

Dean shudders with an aftershock and the smile that lights up his face is blinding. Sam can feel his dimples popping up with his answering smile. “That is a damn fine idea, little brother.”

And Sam has to kiss him if he’s going to say shit like that. They make out in under the stars and the moonlight until Dean gently pulls away. 

“There is a rock digging into my ass and I’m freezing. Let’s move this party inside, okay?”

Sam gives him one last kiss and reluctantly stands up. He feels a little awkward standing there, wet, limp cock hanging out, jeans still caught around the one foot, but it doesn’t seem to bother Dean. His skin glows in the moonlight and his face is in shadow. He smiles at Sam, glorious in his nudity - white smile, eyes glittering black from the shadows - and Sam thinks _Demon. My demon_.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I porned again when I was supposed to be plotting and sleeping. Completely unplanned and unbeta'd All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Sadly, the boys do not belong to me. Happy Halloween!


End file.
